


Breakfast in Bed

by Ladderofyears



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Breakfast in Bed, Chubby Draco Malfoy, Feedee Draco Malfoy, Feeder Harry Potter, Food Kink, M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21717466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Draco has been living with Harry in Grimmauld Place for several months. Harry has been feeding him and looking after his every need. One morning, Harry treats Draco to breakfast in bed.*kinky fic, so please mind the tags!*
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 104





	Breakfast in Bed

There was always a single moment, a split second before you opened your eyes when you imagined that this new life with Harry beside you had all been a dream. 

After all, you had been so lonely before. 

Sometimes you still thought that you’d be transported back to that old existence; imagined that the year you’ve spent with Harry had been little more than a comforting fiction, magicked into life by a mind desperate to escape the plodding tedium of its own existence. 

Your evenings and weekends had been spent quietly, playing with Teddy to give Aunty Andy a break or sat reading beside your Mum. A trip to the Leaky with Greg, or perhaps shopping with Pansy. You’d had many friends but little in the way of love. There’d been a few men, scattered dates here and there, but nothing that developed into anything more than a few spare kisses. 

You always felt like you came across as such a _disappointment_. After all, you weren't anything like that lithe angry Death-Eater that you’d been at seventeen: domesticity and happiness had softened you, physically and mentally. There was nothing you wanted more than a boyfriend, but you were never sure you had much to offer a potential intended in the way of excitement and passion. 

Favourite evenings involved your settee, a good film on the muggle telly and a plate of biscuits while you digested your dinner. Aunty Andi and your Mum were such wonderful cooks, after all. Every night they’d plate you up a big roast dinner or a thick, cheesy pasta that and you wouldn’t be able to resist scoffing. 

“You’ll make me fat!” you’d exclaim, filling you plate with gorgeous, filling foodstuffs. “I’m thirty now. Don’t have the metabolism any more-”

“Nonsense,” Mum would answer, passing you the green beans or the garlic bread. “You look as handsome as ever. Why ever you’ve not got yourself a young man is quite beyond me Draco. One would have imagined they’d be queuing around the shop to ask for your company.” 

You’d laughed aloud at that comment. The only reason that people ever queued around the shop was to purchase your patented cure-all potion (which did indeed cure-all, you’d always think proudly). 

Every night, maternal love would spill over onto your plate in a range of delectable dinners. 

Your willpower, never strong even at the best of times, would always crumble into dust around tea-time. Your waist, bum and thighs all bore the brunt of this matriarchal feeding, a cushiony pad of flesh covering wrapping thickly around your middle. Your belly grew into a generous paunch, weighty and round, the genetics of generations of portly aristocrats finally coming home to roost and spilling softly over your belt. 

Without Father’s binding control over your diet you’d become round and gentle. There wasn’t a thing you’d have changed about your body. You felt plush, present and healthy; comfortable in your skin but the gay wizarding community of England hadn’t seemed to agree. 

All around you, friends seemed to be getting engaged or enjoying lavish weddings that the _Prophet_ rhapsodised over. Only the previous month Astoria had married Blaise in a beautiful ceremony in the foyer of the Ministry of Magic and there’d not been a single dry eye in the house. Pansy and Theo Nott seemed to be getting rather serious too. 

The very best-friend of your life had been dropping some heavy hints about summer wedding colours, and you, Draco Malfoy, perennial singleton extraordinaire, must have looked upset, for Pans had squeezed your hand tightly. “You’ll have your turn too, love,” Pansy had said, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “The right man is out there, I truly promise. And when he finds you, he’ll adore every inch of you. Worship the ground you walk on. He’ll think you’re ravishing.”

You’d sniffed, not wanting to diminish Pan’s happiness with your own troubles. You’d examined your nails carefully, making sure than any stray tears didn’t dare reveal themselves. “Whomever they are,” you’d replied carefully, “they are taking their sweet time arriving. I do wish Mr. Right could just hurry up a _tad_. Feels a bit lonely being me, occasionally.”

Pansy had smiled kindly. “I’m quite sure that if Mr. Right knew you were waiting he’d arrive on your doorstep, darling. Sweep you off your feet-”

“He’d have to be strong to be sweeping me anywhere,” you’d interrupted, shaking the final handful of crisps out of the bag on the table. You frowned at the meagre few remaining. 

“The right person will love you whatever the size of your tummy,” Pansy countered confidently. “He’ll see a talented Potioneer with one of the fastest growing businesses on Diagon. He’ll see a person who loves his family and puts his friends first. He’ll be a damned lucky man, Draco.”

“He’ll see a chubby chemist who still lives with his Mother,” you’d replied, leaning back in you chair and _Accio’ing_ a second packet of salt-and vinegar. “Fact is, I don’t get to have the happy ending. Maybe I’ll get myself another cat. I’ll become the strange old cat-wizard that people warn their children about-”

“Merlin forbid! Hecate would never quite forgive you darling.” Pansy checked her lipstick in the mirror, pouting at her reflection before seemingly deciding it was perfect. “No, I wouldn’t consider Filch the pinnacle of your ambitions just yet, lovely. I’ve got a feeling that things are going to get better for you very soon, Draco Malfoy. Mark my words.”

~@~

The most significant day of your whole life begun mundanely enough. There were no signs or omens during that the dull February morning the today heralded the start of your Happy Ever After but then you’d never cared much for Divination. 

As the morning had slowly dragged on, you’d come the conclusion that Pansy was talking a great heap of nonsense. Your best-mate had never once been short of male attention and Pans certainly hadn’t ever had the mortifying experience of trawling though _Wandr_ for a date. 

The conversation seemed to have been hexed into your brain however, and as you unpacked the deliveries of Powdered Unicorn and Essence of Flobberworm you revisited it relentlessly. Pansy loved you; you knew she only wanted to see you happy and settled but in all honestly, you knew that nothing was ever going to get better for you. Not soon and probably not ever. 

This was your life, an existence you’d made from ruins and shame and you were truly proud of it. You could hold your head high and know that you’d built a life based on truth and honesty. But romance? Perhaps love was something you’d have to live vicariously through others. Maybe it was time for you to accept that

Around eleven-thirty there was a lull in customers and you made the quick-fire decision to run downstairs to check the laboratory. Your Apprentice was replenishing the supply of _Felix Felicis_ and you weren't absolutely sure in the young man’s ability to fully follow the instructions. Having descended the stairs (and found the potion be as perfect as always) you decided the most sensible thing would be to get you lunch. 

After all, it was nearly twelve. Dinner was a deliciously thick quiche surrounded by crumbly pasty that you warmed to the perfect temperature with a tap of your wand. Fizzy pumpkin juice, a sliced apple and a chocolate muffin completed your feast. You heard your belly grumble with appreciation as you hungrily ate the second slice. Mother always did make you the tastiest dinners, and you felt your mood lighten for the first time that day. 

But you weren't destined to finish you quiche that dull February morning. 

Fate had other plans for you, for exactly at that moment a whirlwind of wizard came crashing through the Apothecary door, all big heavy boots and a muggle woollen coat. Strength was the first word that flashed though your brain, as you took in the broad, muscular body stood before you. For half a second all the air seemed to fly from your lungs as you realised exactly who had just ambled into your place of business. 

Golden skin, a billion tiny freckles and the most ludicrously sweet dimples that you’d ever seen. Green eyes that shone with mischief. A wild thatch of hair that looked as untameable as its owner. Everything about the wizard was precisely as you remembered, but somehow even more beautiful. Every moment of the previous nineteen years unspooled in a matter of seconds, leaving you the same besotted, infatuated boy you’d been aged eleven. 

Of all the people in the entire wizarding universe, the very last person that you had expected to have walked into _Malfoy’s Potion Shoppe_ in rainy London was Harry Potter. 

~@~

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and cast your sights around the spacious bedroom of Grimmauld Place. 

You live here now and had done for months. An Undetectable Extension Charm cast on the wardrobe meant all your clothes were waiting but you didn’t feel any pressure to rise out of the pillowy softness of yours and Harry’s bed.

Weekends with your beloved always meant long, luxurious lay-ins, decadent breakfasting and napping until the early afternoon. You let out a little grunt as you roll yourself up into a sitting position, wiggling your ample bottom into a comfortable position before letting your back rest against the headboard. 

Before you woke Harry had pulled back the curtains, letting the golden morning light paint stripes over the pale grey of the walls and onto the thick pile of the carpets. You smiled a little, belatedly realising that your lover has let you sleep in once again: it’s far closer to noon than daybreak. 

Harry’s side of the bed was empty but you knew precisely where your lover was. The delicious scent of fried bacon, fresh bread and coffee permeated the bedroom and your belly gurgled appreciatively. Harry’s breakfasts- as well as his cakes, dinners and puddings- were the expression of his ardent desire for you. 

Harry had adored your plush body from that first grey February morning. His green eyes had shone as soon as they’d found you, refusing stubbornly to stop staring. Even though you’d been on home turf, you’d still felt absurd: fidgety and twitchy under his gaze. You’d felt your tummy tighten with ridiculous, shameful lust. After all, Harry was quite the consummate specimen of wizard. He wasn’t the skinny, lean little _Chosen One_ of his youth. The Harry that had entered your apothecary was composed of taut muscles, powerful biceps and the flattest stomach in existence. 

An Adonis like him wasn’t about to look at your corpulent figure with anything other than derision. 

“Hello,” you’d said, feeling immediately stupid, but any witticism or clever retort seemed to have momentarily escaped you when Harry’s eyes locked onto your own. You promptly felt yourself flush a terrible pink, knowing how awfully domestic you must look. 

There you had stood, bloody _quiche_ slice still in your hand and with your laboratory coat still buttoned around your bountiful middle. You’d frantically brushed down your belly, flushing an even deeper hue as crumbs bounced over the counter. 

Harry had looked you up and down, a smile quirking at the edge of his lips. 

~@~

“I want to look after you,” Harry had confessed after you’d been dating a few short months. “Keep you well fed, Draco. You’re the most perfect man I’ve ever met. Let me worship you like you deserve.”

You’d quickly found out what Harry’s _looking after_ you had meant. He’d moved you into Grimmauld Place the very same week. You’d celebrated with a hedonistic feast of charmed cream cakes, tarts, honey covered pancakes and Honeydukes chocolate, and you’d eaten until you waddled. 

“You’re beautiful," Harry had worshipped as he’d helped you slowly into bed afterwards. “Every inch bigger you is another for me to adore.” 

You’d delighted in your gaining and the pounds had soon packed onto your already weighty frame. Harry was enraptured by your figure, worshipping every sweet new roll and silvery stretch mark as they had appeared, and reverently holding your belly and chest while you spooned in bed. 

As you waited for Harry to return, the patchwork quilt spread over you bed had fallen down into your lap.

You examined your rotund figure sat in the golden morning sun, still amazed by your new plushy curves. You're chubbier now than you've even been before and sport a cushiony double-chin that Harry was compelled to nuzzle. Your belly let out another whine as the smell of breakfast dominated your senses. Your hand slowly followed the curvature of your stomach until you reached the cushion of soft underbelly piled on top of your lap. It felt squishy, warm to the touch, and as soft as butter. You delicately squeezed your newly enlarged belly and explored the tight depth of your belly button, wishing only that it were Harry’s hand fondling you so sweetly. 

It’s still so hard to imagine that anyone could love your body, but Harry does, telling you of your utter perfection with every passing day. 

~@~

The door to your bedroom swung open suddenly and a wild bird nest of black hair poked through the doorway. A wide smile imbued Harry’s face with warmth and behind the thin metal frames of his glasses, his seagrass green eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“You’re finally up,” Harry said, his voice teasing. “I thought you were planning to snooze this entire day away, love.”

You couldn't help but answer Harry with a grin of your own. His happiness was infectious. Harry padded into your bedroom with a large tray levitating before him, loaded high with plates, mugs and a cafetière of coffee. You inhaled happily and shuffled across the bed so that your lover could sit beside you. 

You had to stifle a tiny moan at the rich aroma emanating from the feast that Harry had prepared. The tray hovered just above the swell of your belly and your eyes widened as you took Harry’s handiwork. Fat sausages jostled for space on the plate beside a pile of sizzling bacon and several glistening fried eggs. There were thick slices of toast lathered in yellow butter and several fresh chocolate scones, lovingly prepared just case you’d woken with a sweet tooth. 

Coffee, fruit and fresh cream completed the cornucopia of gluttonous delights. 

“I couldn’t snooze though this, love,” you murmured, tucking in the napkin into the collar of your silk pyjamas. “You know precisely the route to my heart, Harry: through my tummy. This is quite the treat to wake up to.”

“It’s no more than you merit,” Harry had replied, his cheeks pinking. Your lover moved in close to where you sat and leant his weight against your rounded shoulder. “Since you’ve been living here. Well, I’ve been so much happier. More content. You’re remarkable, Draco. Funny. Clever. Damn handsome. I love the feeding of course… I love your physique, but that isn’t all I enjoy about you. I love taking care of you. Even if you didn’t want to gain any longer, or you decided to lose weight. Well, I wouldn’t mind. It wouldn’t make any difference to me. I’d still want you here, beside me.”

You sat down your coffee cup on the tray, taking your lover’s hand in your own. 

You kissed Harry’s fingers, one by one. Even your hands have grown chubby in recent months; there’s a vivid difference between your pudgy fingers and Harry’s slim, scarred digits, but your lover doesn’t seem to care one single Sickle. Harry sighed with contentment while you kissed him, closing his eyes with sheer pleasure. 

Afterwards you ate your breakfast so contentedly. A tap of Harry’s wand had it heated and perfect once more and you were soon shovelling it in hungrily, every bite as wonderfully rich as the one preceding it.

You could hardly pause to tell Harry how delicious it was before you took your next big bite, letting the every scrumptious taste sate your voracious appetite. By the time your abundant belly was brimful of breakfast there was very little left on your plate. Harry sent the tray and all of its contents spinning back to the kitchen before setting you back into the bed. 

Harry popped your silky pyjama bottoms down over the swell of your paunch, spreading his fingers wide before cupping your soft underbelly, feeling how beautifully round the weeks of overindulgence had made you. Harry stroked and caressed you, fingers sinking into your softness, massaging your taut skin and rubbing his hand in smooth circles all over your middle. Harry focussed on all your tight, full spots, peppering your belly with tiny, light little kisses. You couldn’t help but groan with a sheer, pure delight. 

“ _Merlin_ ,” you manage, huffing out your words through your bliss. “This feels so wonderful. 

“Nothing makes me happier than seeing you full and round, filled with my cooking,” Harry replied, pressing a soft kiss to each of your velvet cheeks. “I love you, Draco. You’ve made my life a wonder.”

You felt your heart swell inside your chest. Harry was the first man who had ever cared for you, unconditionally and without guile. Harry had accepted you entirely, with the only stipulation that he be allowed to look after you. Harry had freed you from your lonely, unloved existence. 

“I love you, too,” you reply. You’ve never felt so beloved before, never felt worthy of such adoration. But slowly- so _slowly_ \- you’re starting to believe Harry’s words. "Love you more than I can express. I love how you care for me Harry. Love how you look after me. Thank you. Not just for this breakfast, but… Thank you for everything.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxx


End file.
